the lucky ones
by escapiism
Summary: Everything around her was all so perfectly grey, yet he was in screaming colour. / Bumping into Jason DiLaurentis at one in the morning in some hardware store on her twentieth birthday could have very well been her greatest mistake.
1. voids of inevitability

**So, I spent hours and hours debating on whether to turn this multi-chapter, or keep it as a one-shot—in the end, with the Jaria in me getting the better of me, I decided to turn this multi-chapter, because if Marlene won't let us see them together, I will =) This is about Jason and Aria's relationship between the time jump, and we're erasing the whole Ashley situation from our minds, okay? It never happened because that would make things just weird and awkward and cringey. There's also near to no Ezra-bashing, because I don't want Ezria fans trying to kill me, and also because I'm trying to keep this as canon and realistic as possible.**

* * *

 _voids of inevitability_

* * *

 _they say it's what you make  
i say it's up to fate  
it's woven in my soul  
i need to let you go  
—Imagine Dragons_

* * *

There is that feeling, when whatever's been crawling under your skin is finally itched away, packed up, gone, and you no longer feel as if you are constantly being suffocated—when you finally feel _safe_ in the world.

It's called _freedom_.

And it's something Aria Montgomery hasn't felt since her teenage years.

In a few short minutes, she can put the rest of her teenage stupidity away, for in a few short minutes, she will be turning twenty—the good old two zero. Considering the events, she never expected to make it this far, so as milestones went, this was a pretty huge one.

It's been two years—to whole years. Two whole years of no A constantly looming in not just hers but everyone's midst, two whole years free of constant paranoia, and guilt, and blood dripping from her fingertips. Above all—no _lying_.

Just freedom.

" _Sooo_ … how'd the special birthday girl feeling?"

Aria pointedly rolls her eyes at her roommate, Jasmine, fellow artist slash photographer, ticking the box _uber annoying_.

"I'm feeling great," Aria deadpans. "And I wouldn't call myself 'special'. And it isn't even my birthday yet."

"Don't be such a killjoy!" exclaims Jasmine, already pumping up huge helium balloons with _20_ unmistakably written on them. "The big _twenty_ is a _very_ big deal—you could at least _try_ to act excited, 'Ria."

"I _am_ excited," protests Aria, but Jasmine cuts her off.

"Could've fooled me," Jasmine crosses her arms, eyeing Aria with a look that seemed to singe through her skin—it was something she got used to over time, though. Jasmine Regal was famous for reading you like some book. "You look as excited as a five-year-old being given toenail-flavoured ice-cream."

Aria grimaces. "Image."

At that, the door busts open, and herds of people rush in like some lunatic barbarians, some sporting party hats and bobble hats, some sporting (much to Aria's disgust) absolutely _zilch_.

This time, Jasmine grimaces. "Image."

Aria's face turns a little pale—she decides that this isn't the way she'd like to celebrate her birthday. And it isn't just because of unwelcomed guests and bad moods. She isn't quite sure she wants to celebrate… _at all_.

"I'm going for a walk," declares Aria, and she rushes past Jasmine, the teenagers and non-teenagers, making a hasty retreat to the door, ignoring everyone, everything. She runs past the lift, and almost past the stairs, because of her clouded eyes. It's only after she feels a sudden wetness in her cheeks does she realise that she's _crying_.

She's turning twenty and she's _crying_.

 _She's crying_.

Why on earth is she crying?

She whips out her phone as she steps down onto the stairs—her eyes search for any messages that could possibly stop her tears from flowing and flowing and flowing for really not much reason at all.

 ** _Happy birthday, Aria! Still finding it terribly unfair that you turn twenty before me… You're still tiny though. I'm really missing you, but New York's amazing! You need to come visit sometime. Oh, and Caleb also wishes you a happy birthday! Love you, little midge.  
—Hanna _**

**_Hey, Ar, happy birthday! I'm really sorry I haven't been able to keep in touch as much as I hoped to, been pretty busy, you see. But anyway, happy twentieth and I love you!  
—Em _**

**_Aria: My baby is growing up so fast! Happy twentieth, Ar! I miss you so much, and I would have kept in touch more, but I've been working my ass off for the past year. Missing you :)  
—Spencer _**

Seeing her friends' words only make her cry more. Reading them aloud makes her sob. She hears their voices in her head, and it subconsciously brings her back to a time when they were all young and reckless, without a single care in the world… Then suddenly, the scene shifts, and this time brings her back to a time when they were still all young and reckless, but certainly not as innocent. Or honest.

Her phone buzzes again, and not-so-nostalgic feels rattle through her body, her mind, her conscience, her breath shortening, her pace quickening—she feels tightened, and suffocated, and so… _scared_.

 _This can't be happening again_.

 ** _Punk Princess is turning twenty! I wish you the best here from Rosewood, and I really, really miss having you around! Love you, Aria.  
—Ali _**

It's only Ali.

But the word _Rosewood_ triggers little unwanted warnings all over her body, and a split second later, she's on the step, panting heavily, clutching onto herself for dear life. With every might, she grabs onto the banister for some sort of stability, and regains her posture.

She had a panic attack.

She hasn't had one for a while.

Her phone is lying right down at the bottom of the staircase, and she follows down, half-running. As she picks it up, she is surprised to see it is still in perfect condition, without a single crack in sight. But then again, it is too dark, and she can't see properly—the lights are off, and outside, although it is not pitch black, it is dark for a mid-July summer night. Her phone buzzes again, and she reads the message, this time without the panicking, for the pounding of her heart if long gone, and she breathes in the freedom again.

 ** _Big sis: Missing you—the house is rather quiet without you. Although I am_ finally _leaving this dump in a few weeks. I don't love you, and I certainly don't miss you—jokes.  
—Mike _**

A small chuckle reaches Aria's face.

In three long strides left, and five more right, she's out of the block of apartments, and once again, she breathes in, and out— _freedom_.

In the dimmed light, she examines her phone again, and this time she does spot a crack, right through the centre of the screen—she sighs, for iPhones are expensive, and on top if everything, she still has two more years of college to complete. Still sighing, she runs her finger down it for some unknown reason, only to jerk it back at the sudden shot of pain.

Her finger's bleeding.

It is only minutes after her first realisation of her bleeding finger does she then realise that she is in great need of a plaster—the bleeding won't cease, and tears manage to wind their way into her eyes again.

It doesn't even hurt. If she'd survived almost getting thrown of a box on a moving train, or almost been cut into pieces in some saw mill, then she will get through such "pain".

She sees a sign flashing in the far-off distance: _Mindy's Hardware Store: Open 24/7_.

She can't believe she's doing this. The apartment is only seconds away, whereas _Mindy's_ is a good ten-minute walk.

She's really stupid, although she's figured that out already.

But something— _something_ —is tugging at her sleeve, chanting in her mind, telling her over and over again: _Mindy's_ , _Mindy's_ , _Mindy's_.

So she goes to this stupid hardware store to buy a stupid plaster to cover up her stupid bleeding finger she cut on her stupid and now cracked phone which she stupidly dropped because of her stupid panic attack which she got from reading stupid messages wishing her a happy birthday because it is her stupid, _stupid_ twentieth.

She can go on forever.

But she doesn't because her friends _aren't_ stupid, and neither are the messages.

She's only got herself to blame—crazily sappily and emotion in all.

She walks into the store post six hundred seconds, the door creaking magnificently. A middle-aged woman wearing a hairdo fashionable for an 80's party stands behind the counter, repeatedly slamming a hammer on a plate. Aria walks swiftly past her, deciding it would be the better and safer option to _not_ disturb her.

Her mind goes walk-abouts as she mindlessly wanders past the shelves of nuts and drills and bolts and screwdrivers and tape and…

And right _into_ a man holding a basket, which Aria also manages to bash into. She doubles over, her eyes scrunching up.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry!" The man drops the basket with a _clunk_ and proceeds to helping her up.

"No! I'm the one who's sorry! It's just… really late—I mean… early, I guess? It's just… I… I'm not exactly myself tonight—I mean, to… this morning?" Aria chuckles nervously, running her hands through her tangled-up hair. "I was rambling, wasn't I?"

The man just chuckles himself. "No, not at all. You know, you remind me of a girl I used to know…" His eyes drop down to meet Aria's and his mouth goes into a large _O_ shape. "A-Aria?"

Aria studies the man's eyes, not quite hearing him. His eyes—they are just so… beautiful, voids of green and blue and brown and everything perfect in the world. He looks familiar, _very_ familiar. She is certain that she's come across a man with eyes as green and as beautiful and as perfect. Realisation slowly gets to her as she savours each and every little detail of his attractive face. His eyes, as she had seen before, the same dazzling emerald. His hair, those dirty-blonde locks gently flopping over his face—could he get any more adorable? And those lips—those _very_ kissable, tempting lips.

"Aria?"

The voice brings her out from her thoughts. That voice. _That voice_.

Realisation finally hits her. The man currently standing directly in front of her in a dodgy hardware store on an abandoned high street in _Savannah_ is none other than Jason DiLaurentis.

Jason _freaking_ DiLaurentis.

"Wow," she starts. "I mean, _wow_ , you're here. Like, _here_. At _one_. In _Mindy's_. In _Savannah_. In _Georgia_. I… Hello, Jason."

A smile lifts Jason's lips. " _Definitely_ like a girl I used to know," he pauses. "And hello to you, too, Aria. Hey… isn't today…" His voice trails off as his eyes wander over to the calendar: _Buy Seventy Tools For An Exclusive Mindy Calendar!_ His eyes stop at the date— _22nd July_

Their eyes briefly meet, and Jason smiles warmly. "Happy birthday."

Aria's eyes widen. "You… remembered that it was my birthday. How did you remember?"

"Should I be offended?" Jason cheekily waggles his eyebrows at her.

"I… No! I just… I just…"

"I await the great ramble…" Jason stops himself short when Aria hits his shoulder playfully. "Ooh, a violent lady." He stares down at the droplets of blood left on his shirt, and alarmingly looks back at Aria. "With a bleeding finger! Hey, is your finger alright? What happened? How did you get hurt?"

"It's fine," Aria waves the thought off, only focusing more on Jason. "So, what are you doing in these lowly lands?"

"Well…" Jason sighs, and he looks around, as if to search for an answer to appear in thin air. "Not much. My tyre got a puncture, and I couldn't see a gas station, so I stopped here. I've had my experience and all, so I thought, eh, why not?"

Aria nods, but she is unsure if she should believe him or not. He doesn't seem at all convincing—he doesn't even seem sure of himself.

"Well, whatever you say," Aria laughs, before looking around the store again. "Um, will you help me look for that plaster? My finger hasn't stopped bleeding for, like… um… the last twenty minutes or so?"

"Ouch," Jason says, and brings her finger gently up to his face. "Aria, what on earth did you do to yourself? And why the hell are you out this late… early… on your birthday, anyway? I mean, I don't know if there's some night club out here, I guess you know the place better than I do, but _still_!" Concern finally fills his face—she had wondered when the Jason she knew would come around. Possessive and paranoid when he needed to be, although mostly he didn't have that "you're my little sister" aura around him.

"Jason," Aria says in a firm but kind voice. "I am _fine_ , okay? And I'm just taking a little break. A bunch of party poopers and naked guys prancing around in my flat doesn't… well, it doesn't exactly appeal to me."

Jason raises his eyebrows, concern still evident. "Did any of them force—"

" _No_!" Aria exclaims, wrinkling her noise at even the thought. "Goodness, no! They're just a bunch of hippie artists who believe going in the nude is the trend—yeah, don't ask. They _are_ nice people; they really are—just… strange."

"Interesting," Jason nods in a matter that doesn't seem like he is interested at all. He picks his basket up. "Hey, let's find you that plaster—I refuse to stand here as you insidiously lose the blood that keeps you alive."

"Jason, _all_ blood in your body keeps you alive."

" _Metaphorically_ speaking."

"But there _is_ no metaphor. It's just… life."

They laugh. Despite being absolutely freezing at one in the morning, with one of them bleeding profoundly, and the other being _Handy Manny_ , their banter is unusually high.

But then again, it isn't really unusual—Jason always had a way to make her laugh, and vice versa, even before the whole Ali and A fiasco. He'd be drunk or high off his ass, or even both, but still he's manage to wheel a joke or two in somewhere between his slurred words and drunken haze. And sweet little innocent Aria, with her spunkiness, would make him chuckle once or twice. He'd twirl a finger around her single pink lock, and she's tick her tongue out at him whilst enjoying such movement.

Of course, once upon a time.

As if on cue, his hand reaches out and he twirls his fingers around a small light brown ombred lock, where the pink once proudly stood. He's twirled it so many times before, he's memorized the exact spot.

"You dyed your hair," Jason points out. "I just realised. It suits you."

"Thank you," Aria smiles again (what was it about him?) and they carry on through the aisles. "And I see you have grown your hair out a bit—it suits you." _And it makes you look sexier. As well as making you the spitting image of your eighteen-year-old self. Also remarkably sexy_.

"Thank you," Jason smiles back. "But seriously, we're old friends, must we be so polite?"

"Etiquette is the key to being a lady."

"Ah, of course, Princess Aria," Jason grins, sarcasm dripping through his words as he raises his eyebrows at her amusedly. "Your Majesty, I am so terribly sorry."

"I'm not a queen, I'm, as you said, _Princess Aria_."

Jason laughs. "Okay, so what am I?"

"You'd do well as a jester, don't you think?" Aria grins wickedly.

"Oh, aren't you a funny little one," Jason laughs again, and both their eyes catch onto a box of (hopefully) not dodgy plasters. He brings them down from the high shelf. "Snoopy, huh."

"Huh," Aria mumbled absentmindedly. A million and one questions circle around her head, and she realises something—"So, why exactly _are_ you here?"

Jason opens his mouth but does not say anything. "I… I… It's not really that important, Aria. Anyway, I could ask you the same thing."

"I live here," Aria says matter-of-factly, but she knows that he knows this. "Art. I study art, The Savannah College of Art, to be exact. "

"You always had a thing for art—I'm not at all surprised," he suppresses a laugh, but seems nervous. "Anyway, I'll pay for the plasters." He takes the box from Aria's hand even before she can consider saying a "thank you", for seconds later, a box and a receipt is back in her grasp.

"I… thanks, you didn't have to," Aria says, not getting a word in edgeways. "But stop avoiding my question. I'd quite like an answer, please, and twenty-seven cents isn't going to stop me from getting one."

"Take heed," Jason says. "I don't want you hurting yourself again."

"Jason," Aria repeats in all seriousness.

"Hullo, Aria," Jason says brightly, before finally giving up as her stare stays withholding. "Okay, okay… I… Aria…" he stops. "Let's settle on this—you ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies."

"You are hopeless sometimes," Disbelievingly, she shakes her head, but knows better not to pop his bubble right here, right now. "I will wheel it out someday, just you wait and see."

"You sound like my moth…" he stops himself before he can steer himself off the cliff. "Anyway, let me walk you out, as after all, it _is_ proper etiquette."

At the end of the road, Aria looks up into Jason's swirling green pools of emotions once more.

"Are you going to return to your birthday bash?" he asks, gesturing to the block of flats not far off.

"I don't know…" admits Aria. "I just… I just wanted some space. Away from it all, you know?"

He nods understandingly, almost sympathisingly, and places a reassuring hand on her shoulder—something about that brings back memories. And at that single touch, she really does feel reassured, even with no words, she knows she's safe with Jason.

"I understand," Jason finally says, and he takes his hand off.

Aria sighs as a coldness overwhelms her, and that is when she notices something. She notices his smile falter, his fingers twitch, she notices his uneasiness because it is written all over his face. And his eyes… she sees something that she hasn't seen before in a very long time. And she knows that he's still damaged, still broken, still hurt. But after everything— _after everything_ —how can one _not_ be?

She's just glad they all made it through.

* * *

 **Reviews please! I'd love to know if you think I should continue or not :P**


	2. Mistakes

**Thank you all for the positive feedback and the favourites/follows! Special mentions to _Boris Yeltsin_ , _sarahschneider2012_ , _littlelyingmilly_ , _Maria_ , _Venna26_ , _Guest_ and _Guest_ for all your amazing reviews! Here's the second chapter for all of you :) Beware of the Ezra-bashing…**

* * *

 _Mistakes_

–

 _"I remember years ago_

 _Someone told me I should take_

 _Caution when it comes to love."_

– " _Impossible" / Shontelle_

* * *

They keep in touch.

They exchange their numbers and laugh some more, the pang of sadness in Aria's heart long gone. Suddenly, she's glad. She's glad she walked out of her own birthday party, and she's glad she got that panic attack which caused her to crack her phone, which ultimately caused her finger to bleed. It hurt, of course, but she's glad it kept on hurting and it kept on bleeding – otherwise she wouldn't have gone to that hardware store and bumped into Jason.

It's been so long that she almost forgot how much she missed him.

Two years back, and she hadn't even said a proper goodbye.

Two years back, and whatever relationship they had, she threw away.

"Do you want me to drive you back? It's a little cold and my car's just around the bend." Jason offers, looking at Aria with sincerity in his eyes.

Aria politely declines, before noticing…

"Didn't your car tyre have a puncture or something?" Aria props her eyebrow, now convinced he is lying to her. "Jason, I am still awaiting an answer."

Jason looks down sheepishly, realizing his obvious and stupid mistake. He covers it up, again, although he knows that she knows. "Yeah… as much as I wanted to… I couldn't really anyway." he pauses. "And you will carry on 'awaiting'."

"You're implausible," Aria groans, rolling her eyes.

"I'm being defensive," he protests. "You have your secrets, I have mine…" He smiles triumphantly, but when he sees Aria's reaction, his face softens, and he starts to feel terrible. "I didn't mean… Jesus, I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything," Aria hides her fake smile. "You're… you're being lovely. I mean, I haven't been a terrific friend the last… years… and here you are, standing with me in the cold, laughing with me… and… I'm sorry…"

"Hey, don't be," Jason says. "You have nothing to be sorry about. Except maybe being a little nosy." he adds cheekily.

"Thank you." she breathes.

"None of that either," Jason says. "But it _is_ a little freezing outside. Why don't we meet again, tomorrow? In broad daylight, without one of us bleeding to death, and the other acting the pathetic jester."

"It's a date." Aria nods.

And it's strange – very strange. She doesn't even _like_ him in that way – not after years and years of being in a long but unhealthy relationship – not after years and years of being in love with a different man. And anyway, she's just freaking met him only half an hour ago, in the freaking _hardware store_.

But something, something is inside her, reminding her just how much she wants it to be real.

* * *

She left Jason at about two.

She checks her phone: 02:25.

She's spent almost thirty minutes pacing around the block of apartments, wondering on whether she should come back to her party or not. In the end, she does. Her friends have gone out their way to create this for her, and she leaves without any notice. But she, and she knows this herself, was never good at friendship.

"Where the fuck were you?"

She is met by an angry shout and an equally angry-looking Jasmine Regal, her chestnut hair flying up in all different places. That is the first thing she notices. The second is that there is no one in the room except her and her roommate, balloons and party hats dead on the floor – she almost feels bad for them.

"I'm… sorry." she admits.

"You're _sorry_? You're… Jesus Christ, 'Ria, I've been tearing my hair from my scalp the past two hours! First I thought it was Bill and his other hippie friends, so I made them leave and texted you… which you haven't even read, by the way…" she takes a breath. "I know you're twenty now, and you've been legally an adult for years, but… you're really tiny… and I love you…"

Aria freezes at that – those words, Spencer Hastings had said those very words only several years before…

"Jaz, I'm sorry… really… my head was…" Aria sighs. "I love you, too."

She does. Maybe not as much as the other girls, but since first meeting her at eighteen, they had become the best of friends, and Aria had been able to trust her… with her life even.

"Mushy squash," Aria says, when she pulls her into a hug. "That's what you are, Jasmine."

"Hey! I was worried for you…" Jasmine's face goes into serious mode. "It was _one_ in the morning, and you were gone… goodness knows what could have happened… Hey, is your finger alright?"

 _Oh, the damn bloody finger_ , she thinks.

"I ran into an old friend," Aria mutters, absentmindedly staring down at her finger, picking at her plaster. She frowns when she sees _Snoopy_ with only one-and-a-half ears.

"Here in this abandoned area?" Jasmine scoffs. "Sure…"

Aria doesn't bother arguing. She wouldn't believe her anyway.

"But… happy birthday, 'Ria," Jasmine pulls her into yet another hug, before yawning. "I'm tired… Be safe, and _don't_ run away."

"Yes, mother." Aria calls out after Jasmine retreats to her bedroom.

When she is positive she is gone, Aria looks around again, hoping that nothing has been raided. Apart from the liquor cabinet, everything seems safe.

She too, tired as hell, goes back to her bedroom. Her head hits the pillow, and just as she is expecting sleep – which _doesn't_ come – she instead hears something clash onto the ground with a horrific _crash_.

"Oh…" Aria groans at the noise, tumbling out of bed to see what it is. "Oh… oh, _shit_."

A picture – at least, the remains of what would have been one – is on the floor, shattered into tiny little pieces. She is careful this time, not cutting her finger. With a book from beside, she sweeps up the glass to one side, reminding herself that she will clean it up tomorrow. She places the book on her bedside table and returns to her bed.

She can't go to sleep. She tosses and turns so many times she loses count, and her head it too clogged up with counting how many tosses and turns she's done, that counting sheep is close to impossible. Her eye catches the beige notebook, and she can just make out the handwriting.

 _2011._

This perks her interest up – 2011, she was seventeen then. Seventeen – a reckless age. She made many mistakes which she'd redo in a heartbeat.

She opens it, stroking each page with care. Her writing is squashed in neat boxes, about ten lines long. She reads the first entry.

 _January 1st_

 _New Year, new resolutions. Except I'm not sure if I can keep my resolution. Of course, I'll attempt to stop lying and running to save my ass from A. So yeah, I'll try and stop lying. _

Aria raises her eyebrows as she reads through her seventeen-year-old self's words. She can't help but giggle at her own attitude – although much hasn't _really_ changed. She carelessly flicks through the remainder of the diary, ever so often stopping to read an entry about another of A's great accomplishments and the fact that Aria was very able to save her ass from said accomplishment.

One in particular catches her eye.

 _April 7th_

 _Never fall in love again._

She sucks in her breath, tapping her fingers and the smooth cover. There is only one person in the entire world _who_ this was directed to and _why_.

 _Ezra_.

Her first love, first boyfriend, first time, first heartbreak…

He was a lot of firsts. He was a lot of seconds too. He had wound his way back into her life after Mistake Number Two Hundred and Seventy-Five. She had given him a second chance after he made his biggest mistake (Mistake Number Two Hundred and Seventy-Five). She had let him feel her, touch her, _make love_ to her. Mistakes, mistakes, all mistakes. It had all been a matter of time until he made the next one.

Mistake Number Two Hundred and Seventy-Six was _him_ losing trust in _her_ and _him_ telling her so.

Looking at it now, she realizes how stupid that seems. Ezra had lied to her, used her, manipulated her _so many_ times throughout there on/off relationship (two hundred and seventy-four times, to be exact) and now _he_ had lost trust in _her_?

Aria, even now, can almost taste the irony.

So due to such trust issues, they had broken up – hence Mistake Number Two Hundred and Seventy-Seven.

It had all been alright after that mistake – over time she had been able to forget about him and think about other, more important things like getting Ali out of jail, _fighting off A_.

The next mistake was _her_ mistake.

Forgiving him. Again. Forgiving him once was hard enough. But forgiving him twice?

Aria had loved Ezra – for sure. He had been her everything for a god damn two years. And she had been convinced that after MNSF, she still did.

She still does – even now. Although this love – this love isn't the same as the love she and Ezra shared when they she was a stupid and reckless sixteen-year-old. Ezra just left Aria broken – a little _too_ broken. Broken enough to leave scar so deep for it to still hurt – even now.

 _Never fall in love again._

She rereads the line again and again, until it burns into her brain.

 _Never fall in love again_.

She understands why she had written that.

And even at twenty, years since all the mistakes the both of them made, she promises herself that she never will.

* * *

Jason contacts her exactly one day, ten hours, sixteen minutes and if she is absolutely exact, twenty-two seconds after the 'incident'.

 **Sorry. Had a few things to take care of. Would you like to meet up? Call me.  
Jason**

That single text message makes Aria feel… warm? Invited? Excited?

She calls him. He answers on the third one.

"Hey there, ex-Pink Hair," Jason muses from the other side of the phone.

"Hilarious," Aria replies wryly.

"It was my intention," he laughs from the other side. "So, what do you say? Do you want to meet? We can pull off another 'bump into each other after years with your finger'-"

"Haha," Aria shakes her head. "Anyway, I quite like the idea of us meeting again? What time and where?"

"Well, you know the place better than me," Jason says.

"It's near _Mindy's_ , a few shops off. It's a new coffee shop – _Sally's Cafe_ ,"

"I do love her creativity,"

"Jason – following your words – you are one pathetic jester."

"Just doing my job, mi'lady."

Aria giggles. "See you there in… twenty minutes?"

"Sure," Jason says.

"Okay. See you then." Aria says in her most flirtatious voice.

When she hangs up, she leans against the walls, a somewhat wistful look on her face. She clutches her phone in her hands tightly, as if it is the only thing that matters. But she doesn't really care about the _phone_ itself. It's the message – and the call.

She steals a glance at the mirror, and her hands instinctively go to her hair, which, undoubtedly, is a complete mess. With every attempt, she tries to tame her light brown hair, and finally – _finally_ – nails it. Her dress is short and tight enough, she thinks, and she picks her handbag up and leaves.

The walk seems twice as short as the one on her trip to the hardware store. Mostly because she is running, but also because she is, well, very excited.

"Steady there, Princess,"

"I…" Aria looks up, breaking into a smile. "Hullo, pathetically dim-witted jester. Long time, no see."

"About one day," he grins. "So long, so gone."

 _Actually, one day, twelve hours, and now about forty-three minutes,_ she says to herself, _and counting_.

"So… are you going to sit down or something?" Jason asks, stifling a laugh. "Maybe you can stop gaping at the… clock?"

Aria snaps out of her daze, only just realizing she had been counting the seconds. She nods, laughing along.

"I'm sorry," she lets out a girly giggle. "I'm really, really, really, really sorry."

"You really, really, really, really shouldn't be." Jason raises his eyebrows.

A few minutes in and they're back to their pattern. The same pattern from when she had pink in her hair and he had been drunk and high. The same pattern from when Ian had died and he had come back to Rosewood and he had…

She remembers.

 _Jason_ kissed her.

The memories flood in – it is something she hasn't thought about for a very long time. She reaches her hand and brushes it against her lips. That kiss with Jason – it differed to the million kisses she and Ezra had shared. She wasn't sure if it was good or bad to feel those very feelings – now of all times.

"You know, I'm surprised."

"Huh?" Aria says absentmindedly.

Jason chuckles. "You haven't brought… _her_ up."

Aria knows what he is saying.

"It… it hasn't crossed my mind," stutters Aria. It is true – Charlotte hadn't crossed her mind since seeing Jason again. Snippets now and again, but she hadn't fully thought about her for… quite a while.

"You're one terrible liar, Ar." Jason laughs, before turning serious. "You can ask, you know."

"I…" Aria mumbles. "I… how… how is she?"

Jason shrugs. "She's doing a lot better. Ali's been with her the whole two years – I've visited her… a few times."

"You… you've seen her." Aria states.

"Yeah," Jason shrugs again, fiddling with his straw. "She says she's sorry and… and I think she means it… I think she's changed – for the better."

"That's really good to hear." she says genuinely. She too turned solemn. "Jason… I'm really sorry – about her… about… everything."

Jason shakes his head. "Thank you, Aria, but… I don't need your sympathy. I think I've had enough of that." he pauses. "I'm sorry, that was rude."

"Don't worry…" Aria says. She feels horrible – Charlotte, A, it must be a touchy subject for him, and here she was, talking about it right in front of his face. And she thought this couldn't get more awkward. "I… would you like some more milkshake?"

She arrives home around three hours later. Her heart is beating rapidly. He had told her he'd call her again, and then he'd hugged her and _kissed_ her forehead.

She felt her temple. The place where he'd kissed it – it still felt surprisingly warm – warmer than the other parts.

"Hot date with Mr Casanova?" Jasmine sweeps into the room, a strawberry tart in one hand.

"Sorry, who?" she splutters, hanging her handbag on the peg. "Hey, can I steal some of that?"

"Don't change the subject." Jasmine says. "Is it something to do with why you were late out on Sunday?"

"First of all, a) no, it isn't. Well, partially but… that's not it. B), technically, I _wasn't_ late out! You threw me a party very, very late. No! _Early_ -"

"You're smitten," Jasmine smirks, crossing her arms.

Aria's face contorts in disgust. "That is _not_ true! You don't even know who I was with! An _old_ friend! We've known each other for… seven years! We-"

"Yep, definitely, unmistakably _smitten_." And Jasmine walks of, still smirking, still crossing her arms.

Aria just shakes her head at such nonsense. Smitten – smitten indeed! She was anything but smitten. Jason was a close friend – _is_ a close friend. _Only_ a close friend. She is not in love with him – with _anyone_ , for that matter.

 _Never fall in love again_.

Even her love for Ezra is long gone.

* * *

 **That's a pretty shitty chapter, I'm sorry :( Did anyone get the tiny, tiny HP references from this chapter and the one before? DID YAAAA? No? Oh okay… Also, the _and running to save my ass from A_ is meant to be crossed out but it didn't let me haha:) BTW, I am currently on Chapter Four of editing _If It Was A Fairytale_! **


End file.
